Van Helsing: In Search of El Chupacabra
by Nathan-Daystorm
Summary: Van Helsing is sent on a new mission, but not all is as it seems. (Not an "Anna isn't dead" or "Anna is revived" story.)


**Van Helsing**

**In Search of El Chupacabra**

**Prologue**

AN: Yeah, I know what you're thinking. "El Chupacabra? Why in the hell would Van Helsing go after a monster that just sucks goats dry?" You'll see, my friends, you'll see. Right now it's just a prologue I'm writing because I'm feeling like shit and need to write something angsty.

* * *

Gabriel Van Helsing sat alone in a dingy, run down bar somewhere near the border into Texas. He was nursing a glass of tequila the size of two rocks piled on top of each other, the bartender long since left. The bottle of tequila sat next to the monster hunter's elbow, untouched except for that one glass.

The glass itself was almost empty. It had taken hours, but Van Helsing had finally gotten down to drinking, and he was almost ready for another glass. He didn't feel like doing anything, just felt like sitting around, drinking, and perhaps sleeping. He didn't want to do his job, didn't have any desire or drive to hunt evil.

He just wanted to sleep.

Abruptly, he took a large swig from the glass, finishing off the rest of the tequila inside. He grabbed the bottle, suddenly irritated, and poured himself another glass. He downed that one in one long gulp, reaching out for the bottle again.

"Hey, friend, I'd go easy if I were you," called an accented voice from behind him.

Van Helsing spun the stool, drawing his pistols on pure instinct, pointing them out at the owner of the voice. The owner of the voice was a man, apparently in his mid-thirties; his stubbly chin the only thing visible under his large sombrero. He wore a white shirt, twin holsters on either side of his waist, dusty, faded tan pants, and spurred boots, along with a patchwork bandolier over his shirt. A guitar case sat next to him, leaning against the table he sat at. The man himself sat sideways in the chair, right elbow resting on the table, left elbow propped up on the top of the chair, his face turned to Van Helsing, hidden from just above the mouth, which a large, obviously self-made cigar was clenched in. "Who're you?"

"I'm nobody," the man returned. "You're lookin' pretty down, friend."

"That's my business, not yours," Van Helsing replied. "Why didn't I hear you come in?"

"'Cause I like dramatic entrances," the man quipped. "Listen, I'm just sayin', you might not want to go so hard on that tequila. That's all."

"Like I said," Van Helsing returned, "that's _my_ business, not yours."

"Suit yourself," the man sighed. "Though, I hafta wonder…why's a man like you drinkin' away in some pisshole in Mexico? Your accent, friend, sounds more like you should be hangin' around with the fancy Brits, 'cross the sea."

"You still haven't answered my question," Van Helsing growled.

"You really think I'm gonna?"

"I think you should." Suddenly, the man whipped his hands down, drawing his pistols out of their holsters and pointing them at Van Helsing quicker than the monster hunter had expected.

"I'm thinkin' you should lighten up a little, friend. Not everybody's out to kill you, y'know."

"There's nothing wrong with being cautious," Van Helsing replied. "Death isn't a thing one should take lightly."

"I try to look on the brighter side of death," the man returned, a slight smile on his face. Van Helsing bolted upright, his face twisted in both amazement and anger.

"How do you know that," Van Helsing inquired.

"Know what, friend?"

"Don't play dumb with me," Gabriel threatened.

"I'm not here to shoot you, Mr. Van Helsing."

"You know me," Van Helsing questioned, suddenly apprehensive. The stranger let his cigar drop into his right hand, bringing his left index and thumb to his mouth, wetting them slightly with his tongue before pinching them briefly over the heated portion of the cigar. The cigar went out, and the man began to unroll it. Once he'd finished, he let the tobacco fall to the table, unneeded, and held up the paper it had been rolled it.

It was one of Van Helsing's wanted posters.

"Oh," Van Helsing sighed. "They have those here?"

"You're famous," the stranger returned. "Wouldn't be surprised if they had 'em everywhere."

"You know, you could have just told me," Gabriel pointed out, for some reason feeling more comfortable around the stranger.

"Ah, but the question is, would you have believed me?"

"Fair enough," Gabriel pointed out. "How do I know you're not here to kill me?"

"You don't," the stranger replied. "Guess you'll just have to take a leap of faith, friend." After a few tense moments, Van Helsing began to lower his pistols. The stranger did the same, until both had holstered their pistols.

A few more moments pass before Van Helsing feels that the stranger would've made a move by now if he'd planned to, and turned back around, to go back to his bottle. He expected the stranger to say something, and when the sombrero-clad man didn't, he poured himself another glass. Finally, after a few silent moments, the stranger whispered, "Mind if I play?"

"Go ahead," Van Helsing responded. "Unless it's some happy, joyful…crap."

"Oh," the stranger said, laughing, "I don't think I'd play something like that, Mr. Van Helsing." The pair fell silent again, except for the stranger removing his guitar from the case and tuning it briefly. Then came the strumming, starting soft. "So, friend," he offered quietly, "why are you drinking, anyway? Trying to atone for sins of the past?"

"Something like that," Van Helsing confirmed.

"Ahhh, then a lost love is what you're drinking to?"

"You're pretty perceptive," Van Helsing muttered into the drink as he raised it to his lips.

"You'd be amazed at the things I see," the stranger continued. "So, who was this lost love, if you don't mind me asking?"

"You wouldn't believe it," Van Helsing chuckled, taking another swig of the liquor.

"Try me," the stranger replied, the strumming picking up the volume and pace slightly.

Van Helsing shook his head, smirking to himself inwardly as he stated, "I don't know why I'm telling you this, but I guess it couldn't hurt. She was a Romanian princess, by the name of Anna, and I loved her."

"A princess," the stranger observed, smiling slightly. "Not bad, my friend."

"No, it wasn't like that," Van Helsing returned. "She wasn't at all like you'd imagine a princess."

"I see," the stranger mused.

"But that's what was so…invigorating about her. She was stubborn, hot-headed at times, and could be incredibly difficult when she put her mind to it…but underneath that toughness, she was also gentle, and caring, and loving."

"Much like you, yes," the stranger questioned, obviously rhetorically, with a slight smirk on his face. Van Helsing laughed before taking another swig and continuing his story.

"I met her on a m…on an errand that I needed to take care of in Transylvania."

"Ahh, the home of Vladislaus Dracula, lord of the vampires," the stranger quipped. Van Helsing craned his head around and gave the man an odd look. "We have the vampire here, too, Mr. Van Helsing. They're everywhere, I imagine."

"I suppose," Van Helsing reluctantly agreed, turning his head and eyes back to his drink. "So, if you know about Dracula, whom I've never heard of before-"

"Yes, I know of your 'errand' in Transylvania, as well as the 'taskmasters' that sent you," the stranger explained. "Go on."

"I'll have to ask you about that later," Van Helsing sighed. "Her family was cursed. Until Dracula was destroyed, they couldn't get into Heaven. If the last of the line was destroyed-"

"No admittance," the stranger finished for him.

"Right." Van Helsing took another long gulp of his drink.

"I am assuming that you helped her defeat him?"

"That I did," he responded, "but in the end, I killed her."

"I see."

"You don't sound too surprised," Van Helsing observed.

"No," the stranger replied, "I am not. Go on."

"I had been scratched by a werewolf, and had gradually turned into one. The stroke of midnight on my first night was as long as I could control the wolf. After that, it would control me when I transformed." He sighed and added, "Like Anna's brother, Velkan." The stranger played a note of open strings and used his free hand to cross himself in sympathy before returning it to the guitar. "There was a cure, but it had to be administered before or during the striking of midnight. Anna did so, but…the wolf had one its work. It had killed Anna." He sighed and began to raise his glass slightly. "The only woman I'll ever love," he muttered into it before swallowing a large gulp.

"So what brings you to Mexico, Mr. Van Helsing," the stranger questioned. "A new mission?"

"Yes," the monster hunter replied. "I'm to hunt something called…a chupacabra."

"Ah, the goatsucker."

"You know of it," Van Helsing questioned, turning to face the stranger, propping his elbows up against the bar behind him.

"You could say that," the stranger replied, with a laugh. "Everyone knows about them." The stranger began to put away his guitar, oblivious to the fact that Van Helsing was asking him what he meant by "them." He stood and walked to the doorway, pushing it open before looking back at Van Helsing. "Everything isn't always as it seems, Mr. Van Helsing." That said, the stranger disappeared out the doors.

Van Helsing gave it a little thought before leaning his head out the door. "I could use a translator," he called after the stranger. The stranger turned, and appeared to be thinking about something, before he began to traipse back at a leisurely pace. "I can pay you well-"

"The only payment I require is that you do not leave me out of any information you receive while hunting the chupacabra. Is that enough?"

"We have a deal," Van Helsing replied, extending his hand. After a moment, the stranger took it, shaking it firmly before the pair released each other's hands.


End file.
